Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 711 - 399: Era-Crushing Overkill (Part 2)

Chaos erupted in an instant.

A person ripped off their helmet, their voice a ragged scream in a fleeting mental agony.

Someone swung their sword at a colossal beast that lunged from a vision, only to nearly strike a compatriot in the next second.

Another slumped onto their saddle, gasping for breath, hands trembling as if an icy chill had crawled up their neck to their scalp.

More knights lost their balance and tumbled from their warhorses, rolling through the mud and snow before forcing themselves upright, faces ashen and pupils dilated in terror.

As an Extraordinary Knight, Ackman desperately channeled his Fighting Energy to resist the onslaught, his eyes blazing red as he roared fiercely, fighting to regain control.

His voice was a guttural growl,

"No! Don’t shove me! I implore you—I don’t wish to perish!"

A Black Steel Knight, pushed before the treads, bellowed, yet his cry was utterly consumed by the subsequent sound of shattering metal.

Ackman’s Black Steel Knights were rent asunder, crushed, shredded, and buried beneath the relentless advance of the steam tanks...

Flesh and steel were churned into an iron-red mire under the churning tracks.

From the very heart of this inferno, Ackman bellowed, unleashing his Fighting Energy, transforming into a bolt of black lightning that tore from the chaotic wreckage.

Just as his warhorse reached the tank’s flank, it was violently thrown to its knees. Nevertheless, Ackman launched himself upward with raw strength, his sword blazing with Fighting Energy, and brought it down with a furious strike upon the head of a steam tank.

"Cease your advance—!!!"

With a deafening roar!

The blade met the cold iron hull, igniting sparks that erupted like a cascade of white fire. That singular blow possessed sufficient power to gouge a substantial dent into the tank’s exterior, deforming the metal plate into a curve, eliciting a tortured groan from the steel.

Yet, the tank did not halt.

It merely quivered slightly, akin to a colossal beast gently nudged upon the shoulder.

In the ensuing moment, the treads accelerated abruptly, responding to the affront by brutally crushing forward.

Ackman’s expression contorted in alarm; evasion was impossible.

The tank’s formidable ram collided directly with his chest, propelling him through the air.

"Boom—!!"

He tumbled dozens of meters airborne like a severed marionette, breaching through the ethereal armor and fallen bodies within two strata of knight formations, finally embedding himself a half-human depth into the snow, crimson blood spewing from gaps in his armor, painting the surrounding snowscape red.

Still, the tank paid him no heed, neither pausing nor decelerating.

It displayed complete disregard for this leader of the Extraordinary-level legion.

Ackman lay supine in the snow, drawing ragged breaths, the audible cracking of his shattered ribs echoing. He lifted his head, observing the encroaching tide of steel death, and for the first time, stark terror registered in his eyes.

And his Black Steel Knights... had already been ground into unrecognizable sanguineous paste and fractured metallic fragments beneath the treads, utterly obliterated by the unforgiving fury of the industrial age.

As the Seventeenth Legion disintegrated under the tank’s impact, its formation utterly shattered, the Red Tide’s reaping force surged through the intervals between the tanks!

Lambert, personally commanding the Red Tide Guard Knight Order, their crimson cloaks billowing against the tempest of wind and snow, forged a breathtaking spectacle of a blood-hued flood.

Every warrior within this unit ranked above Elite Knights, moving with the swiftness of a furious gale, their coordination unnervingly precise.

They advanced like high-mobility predators, deftly maneuvering through the protective screen of the steam tanks.

Any foe attempting to rally, once marked by their focus, faced a singular destiny...

"Detonate."

Magic Explosion Bullets rained down like incandescent embers upon dry tinder, initially shattering the tightly packed enemy ranks into pieces.

The Red Tide Knights followed in rapid succession, drawing their blades into the dissipating smoke, dispatching every surviving wounded soldier with ruthlessly efficient actions.

The Seventeenth Legion’s knights found themselves utterly disoriented.

Their vaunted defensive formations, their formidable shield walls, and their heavy Black Steel armor proved utterly futile against the Magic Explosion Bullets’ absolute ten-meter kill radius and the Red Tide’s high-mobility infiltration tactics.

The brief pandemonium wrought by the frost-eating, soul-shattering rounds had barely subsided before the battlefield became filled with localized detonations.

Each explosion signified the complete annihilation of a squad’s combat capability.

The tanks’ relentless crushing, the Red Tide Knights’ merciless reaping, the devastating effect of the Magic Explosion Bullets—all unfolded simultaneously upon the same battlefield.

This was no mere engagement; it was the systematic eradication of old-era knights by their new-era counterparts.